Roses in the Rain
by SomewhereOnlyWeKnow9
Summary: A teenage girl comes into the CSI's lives with no warning whatsoever, and hidden secrets are coming out everyday she's there. Ash Rose is causing quite a stir, and she's piece by piece putting together a thirteen year old mystery that one CSI has been desperately trying to forget about. Dedicated to InsaneOnTheInside.
1. Prologue

"How...how could you?" She takes a step back, anger and even worse, betrayal in her eyes. I reach take a step forward and reach my hand out, trying to touch her, trying to make her understand. She takes another step away, and my heart breaks.

"Ash, just listen, please."

"You knew all this time and you kept it from me? I trusted you! And you know how hard that is for me!"

"Please, just listen," Her whole body is shaking, and guilt fills my body.

"No. Just tell me where he is! Who is my father?"

"That would be me."


	2. Meeting Ash

**Hey, guys! I know the prologue was a little vague, and there will be a few chapters until you figure out what led up to it. I hope you like the story! This chapter is dedicated to ****_InsaneOnTheInside_****. Don't worry, I don't think I'll abandon this story anytime soon. **

"Female. Looks to about forty."

"Got an ID?" Sara questions Greg.

"Um...Yep. Annie Freeland. I was right, 46 and local."

"We're thinking foster mom, right?" Nick questions from the dead body he kneels next to.

"I'm thinking a whole foster family," She watches as David loads a little girls body onto the gurney. "Different races, ages, sexes."

"It's filthy."

"Foster homes aren't always as amazing as we picture them," She stares at the dirty walls and pushes away thoughts of what life was like when she was in one.

"Hey, I'm going to go check out upstairs," Greg says, and she nods.

"I got another body!" Sara shouts over her shoulder. A little boy, no older than five, lies in a pool of blood in the kitchen.

"Um...Guys? We got a problem up here,"

"Not now, Greg," Nick shouts over his shoulder.

"Yes now. Sara, seriously!" She sighs and carefully walk up the stairs, looking for blood. "In here," She follows his voice into a room that smells of urine and is crammed with beds.

"What is it Greg?" He gestures at the closet with his hand. Her eyes widen as she begins to understand. She pulls out her gun and aims it at the door. Silently, she mouths one, two, three. One three, he yanks the door open. A tall girl with long, curly blonde hair stares back at them with her chocolate eyes from her spot in the corner. She silently puts her gun away as Greg takes a step into the closet.

"Hey, what's your name, sweetheart?" She stares at him, guarded, then notices the vest. Her features immediately soften.

"Åshild."

"Hey, that's Norwegian, right? It means fighting women," She nods, and her hand flies to the necklace on resting on her collarbone, confirming Sara's fears.

"My dad is Norwegian."

"Hey, so am I!" She bites her lip, but then gives in and sends him a smile. The chip on her front tooth makes Sara's heart stop beating.

"So, you feel like coming out of the closet?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On who the hell you are," He gives her a little grin.

"Greg Sanders. Las Vegas Crime Lab," A small smile inches up her pale cheeks.

"My mom was a CSI," He gives her an encouraging grin.

"So you know you can trust me," She pauses for a moment, then stands, reaching behind some cardboard boxes and producing an old wooden one. She then comes out of the closet. Greg grins at her.

"Okay Åshild."

"I go by Ash."

"You got a last name, Ash?"

"No," She states. Greg tilts his head to the left.

"Everyone has a last name."

"Not me. Just Ash."

"Alright, just Ash, do you mind coming down to the station with me?" She thinks about this for a moment, tugging at the necklace on her chest.

"Like where my mom used to work? The Crime Lab?"

"Exactly, sweetie," Comforted by this, she grabs the box, takes Greg's outstretched hand and begins to walk out of the room. Neither of them notice the fact that Sara stays in the room, staring at a forgotten picture in her wallet.


	3. Talking Heavy Metal

"You remind me of someone," Ash states, sitting in the cold metal chair next to me.

"Who?" I ask, sneaking a side glance at her as we wait for Brass to come out. The strange thing is, she reminds me of someone too.

"I don't know. That's weird, huh?"

"Not at all, sweetie. Sometimes, I'm working a case, and every person I see reminds me of someone I know."

"I get that feeling a lot. I see someone, and I think I remember them from when I was a little girl. Then, I realize I'm just imagining things, you know?" She reaches for the necklace on her chest, holding it tightly. She releases it, and it falls onto her collarbone, bouncing before settling on her pale skin.

"That's pretty."

"My mom gave it to me. It's a locket, but I've never been able to get it open," She hugs the wooden box to her chest, bouncing her legs up and down nervously.

"Greg?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I am so scared right now," She bites her lip and closes her eyes, and I take her hand.

"Hey, your going to be fine. I promise," She nods, but a tear rolls down her cheek. My heart begins to break. Yes, I've worked with kids on cases before, but there's just something about Ash. "Hey, you like Def Leppard?" I say, noticing the text on her too small t-shirt. Her eyes light up instantly.

"They're my favorite. Most people think I'm nuts. Teenage girls should like Taylor Swift and that crap. Not me. Heavy metal all the way," I grin at her.

"When I worked at the lab here, I was always yelled at for blasting my rock music. Even now, no one wants to drive with me to crime scenes because I play my music at levels that burst eardrums. Oh well," She smiles, and the whole room lights up.

"You worked in the lab?"

"Yeah, I was in DNA. Now, I'm a CSI Level Three! Boo-yah!" I pump my fist in the air, and she giggles. Brass walks in and kneels down in front of her.

"Hey, I'm Jim Brass. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, sweetie?" She considers this for a moment.

"Can Greg come?" Brass looks surprised, but nods. She grabs my hand and we follow Brass into his office.

**Hey guys!**

**I am so happy that you guys are liking the story! It's a little confusing at the moment, but hopefully each chapter will bring a piece of the puzzle.**

**InsaneOnTheInside: Glad you like the story! Thank you for reviewing, and I'll add a lot more 'Greg as a dad' parts. Glad you like it!**


	4. Convincing Brass

"What's going to happen to her, Jim?" He sighs and looks out the glass wall of his office at Ash, who sits on the bench outside.

"Mmm...Another foster home, I guess. Shame. She seems like a sweet girl." "She is," I pause and run my fingers through my hair. Outside, Ash plays with her necklace, looking scared and vulnerable.

"So are you taking her over to CPS for the night?"

"I think so." "She's been through so much. Is there anywhere else she can go?"

"According to CPS, mom ditched her and her father was never in the picture. She really doesn't have any family we can send her to."

"She could stay with me for the night," Brass looks up from the papers he's been flipping through in surprise.

"DA would have a field day, Greg." "Morgan just wrapped up a case. She could take my place. No conflict of interest," He sighs.

"I'm going to regret this. I'll go work it out with CPS," I grin and glance out at Ash, who waves.

"Thank you, Jim." He sighs again and I jump out of my chair and walk over to the bench where she sits. "You were really good in there, Ash. I know it couldn't have been easy for you. Hey, I have some candy stashed away in the break room. Want some?"

"Do you have chocolate?" I dramatically roll my eyes.

"What a question. Not only do I have chocolate, I have chocolate from three different continents."

"In that case, show me to the break room."


	5. Being Royalty

By the time the chocolate has disappeared, Ash is asleep. The T.V. blares a cartoon in the background, so I turn it off so not to wake her up. I pick up some wrappers and toss them in the trash before pulling a blanket from a cabinet and wrapping it around Ash. She sleeps soundly, her long blonde hair falling in spirals around her head.

"Hey Greg, you want to go grab something to eat?" I place a finger to my mouth and gesture at Ash. Finn double takes at the sleeping girl. I lead her out of the breakroom and shut the door.

"So why is there a little girl on the sofa?"

"She was at my scene. We took her back here for questioning, and she's staying the night with me." Ash wanders out of the room, rubbing her eyes.

"Greg? I'm hungry."

"Even after eating all my chocolate?" She gives me a sleepy smile. "Well, Finn is hungry too. So lets head down to a diner," She furrows her brows.

"Who's Finn?"

"Hi, sweetie." The blonde says, waving. Ash looks up, finally noticing her. "I'm Finn." Ash nods, her eyes uncertain.

"Finn's a CSI, too," With that, she relaxes a little, but she still looks untrusting.

"What's your specialty?" She asks, and Finn looks surprised.

"Blood spatter analysis." With that, she finally smiles.

"They call her the blood whisperer," I tell her, and she giggles.

"Okay, let's head down to the diner. I'm starving." Ash smiles and we walk towards the parking lot.

"So what's your name, sweetie?"

"Ash."

"You got a last name, kiddo?" She shakes her head.

"You see Finn," I say, lowering my voice to a whisper as we enter the parking lot. "Ash is actually a Norwegian princess who is here as part of the Witness Protection Program. Her real name is Åshild Von Mason Agatha Mick Jagger Iliigan Batman Weinersnitchel The Fifty Second." Finn nods, and Ash also keeps a straight face.

"Yes, you see, my family has many enemies. After I revived a death threat, they sent me here." I nod. "Yes, I heard about it on the news. The entire Von Mason Agatha Mick Jagger Iliigan Batman Weinersnitchel family has been in a lot of trouble." Finn says. Ash clucks her tongue, and I roll my eyes.

"Ash does come from a family of idiots. But just remember, don't blow her cover." We all no d and I start the car, driving towards the diner, grinning and talking about theVon Mason Agatha Mick Jagger Iliigan Batman Weinersnitchel family.

**Okay, So what are we thinking? This would've been up a while ago if I my Internet wasn't so 'effed up. I am going to bring in the other characters, Warrick will also be involved. I really want Finn and Morgan to especially connect with her. What are we thinking? Advice? Ideas? Rants? Just type them out in a review, and I will be forever grateful to you. I'll donate you a kidney! Or not. Okay, I won't. I'm a terrible person. Still, review!**


	6. Worrying Morgan

"Morgan, thank god your here." The blonde enters the scene and look surprised at Sara's response.

"Glad I'm so loved."

"No, Morgan, we have a problem." She reaches into her wallet and pulls out the picture. Fear grips both their bodies.

"She's...she not here, is she?" "Greg took her down to the station." "Oh, god. We need her out of here. Now."

"We're in too deep now." She gestures around at the blood.

"Is there any chance it's a mistake?" "She had the box, the locket, the chip in her tooth."

"Well, what do we do? Tomales Bay, San Francisco, L.A. Nothing's safe for her anymore, Vegas least of all."

"Even worse, Brass says Greg is keeping her for the night." Morgan sinks down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, terrified.

"Oh my god, Ash."


	7. Calling Mom

"Mom."

"Morgan! Hi, sweetheart. How is Conrad? Recovering after being shot? I swear to god, that man is insane."

"Mom."

"And you should be taking care of him, are you taking care of him?" I sigh and let her rattle on while trying not to barf of fear. I stare at the picture in my hand and let my mother continue to talk. "And that's why I'm thinking you should become a vegan."

"Mom." "You father and I have been doing it, I feel so good!"

"Mom."

"And I'm actually losing weight! A little exercise, no dairy, I've never been..."

"Mom, Ash is here." The line goes silent.

"What?"

"Sara was working a case and they found her in the closet."

"Is she hurt?" Her voice is filled with arising panic. "My god...she isn't..."

"No, she's fine." She lets out a sigh of relief. "But everyone in the foster home is dead. They've found her, Mom, and I don't know what to do. California is no longer safe, Vegas is even worse."

"Well, Conrad has relatives out in the East Coast."

"So what do we tell him? Surprise! You have a granddaughter! Mom, I'm terrified. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have given her up."

"Morgan Elizabeth Brody, you stop that right now. You did what you thought was best for your daughter. So where is she now?"

"Apparently, Greg is taking her for the night. I don't have custody anymore, so I can't stop him."

"Well, it's only a night."

"You've met Greg. If he gets attached to her...we need a plan, Mom." She sighs.

"Right now, the best thing you can do is keep at arms length. Alert Brass and the L.A. team, but not anyone from Vegas. Sara's working the case, right?"

"Yeah."

"Have her fly down here and work the case with the L.A. team. We need to keep the press out of this along with the Vegas team."

"So what? I'm just supposed to stay here and watch my daughter from afar?" My voice is rising.

"Shhh...hey, it's going to be okay, baby."

"I know it was the right thing, but god. And now she's here. How does a woman stay away from her own daughter?"

"Sweetie, you got a serial killer after your daughter. You need to stay strong. And more important, you need to tell Conrad." And with that, she hangs up.


	8. Telling Dad

"Dad, you shouldn't be here."

"I'm fine."

"You got shot. That qualifies you as not fine." He grins and continues to flip through the paperwork.

"I heard you went to Frank's."

"It was all hands on deck. I'm the undersheriff. I needed to be there."

"Mom thinks your insane."

"That's nothing new." I take another step into his office, finally sitting myself on the chair across from him. He looks up, surprised. I pick up a framed photograph from his desk. I'm no older than Ash, twelve maybe, lying on my back in a meadow with a butterfly on my nose.

"You took me for a picnic," I say, recalling the day of the photograph. "Out near the river. School had just let out, so we went swimming. Remember?"

"You were so young. I remember how happy you were."

"Do you also remember that you were called out to a scene in the middle of lunch? You promised me your phone was off. 'No work today,' you said, 'Just my Morgan.'" I snort a little, placing the photo back on the desk.

"I was a pretty awful dad, I guess." He sighs and puts the paperwork away, leaning into his chair. I think about it for a moment.

"Not always. When my appendix bursts, you took a full week of just to stay with me. And when I broke my curfew by two hours, you defended me. And some nights, I would sit with you and we would go over your case files. I guess I sometimes forget sometimes. I was so angry with you, though. After the divorce. What I don't understand is how you can stand to be in the same room with me after how I've treated you." He smiles at me.

"There's nothing you can say or do to make me love you less, M."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Keep that in mind, then." I reach into my pocket and pull out a series of photographs. He looks at me confused as I slide him a picture of a newborn baby girl with brown eyes and curly blonde hair.

"Cute little girl." He comments, examining it. In the next picture, she's laughing, only a year old. He smiles.

"This one's my favorite." I say, handing it to him. Ash sits in my lap, three years old. I'm tickling her sides, and she's giggling, her tiny arms wrapped around my neck. A scar peeks out from under her baby blue dress, but its barely noticeable, her long blonde spiral curls cover it up.

"Morgan, who is this?"

"My daughter." I simply state. His eyes widen and he drops the photo.

"How..."

"Her name is Åshild Rose Brody. I was eighteen when I had her. I never could locate her dad. We were both..." My cheeks flush. "drunk. I gave her up when she was five."

"Why?" He chokes out.

"I got on the bad side of a serial killer, dad. And he was targeting Ash. So I gave her up as an act of desperation. It was the only way to save her." "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Ash is in Vegas. She was the sole survivor of a massacre that left ten dead. And I am positive she was the intended target of it. Greg wants to keep her for tonight. He has no clue about any of this. No one does, except for you, Sara, Mom, James and the LA team. I'm pretty sure Greg will want to foster her. If he does, he puts both Ash and himself in danger. I can't do anything. I gave up my custody." He stares down at the picture."

"She's beautiful, M." He whispers, and despite everything, I smile.

"I know."

"Looks like you."

"She has her fathers eyes, though. But someways with her, it felt like I was just talking to myself. A sweeter, goofier, better version of myself. She's just the perfect little girl, dad. You would love her. But you can't tell anyone about her, okay?"

"I won't, M. And it might be smart to keep her in the area. We can see anything suspicious and keep her protected. And I can meet my granddaughter." He passes the photo back to me, and I stare at it for another moment, the tears in my eyes turning it into one big amorphous blob.

"You'll love her. Everyone loves her. She's perfect."

**Meanwhile...**

Through the window of IHOP, the man can see Ash and two adults laughing over cake. A blonde haired lady, tousles the mans spiky hair while Ash giggles. A sick smile spreads across his face as he examines his reflection in the gleaming knife. _"Not tonight,"_ He tells himself. _"Everything will fall into place. Just wait."_ And with that, he disappears into the dark night.


	9. Eating Pancakes

Sunlight streams through my windows, and I blink sleepily. Looking around the room, confusion sets in. A picture on the dresser next to me reminds last night. I must be at Greg's house. Doing a quick check, I find my locket still on, and my wooden box on the dresser next to me. I enter the five letters to unlock it and pull a hair tie from the top drawer. I pull my spiral curls back into a messy ponytail and sleepily exit the room. The smell of food startles me. Food was always a reward in foster care, not something just given during the morning. My mother always made delicious breakfast. She would be up at five am, humming in the kitchen as she made my French toast. I would run into the room, and she would swing me around.

"How's my little Rosie today?" She would ask, and I would grin up at her. My response was always the same.

"Hungry, mommy!" She would laugh and kiss my head, then tell me to go watch some cartoons. When breakfast was ready, we would sit together and talk about whatever I was feeling like talking about.

"Ash! You're up!" Greg's voice snaps me out of my daydream.

"How are you not tired?" I ask him, puzzled. He grins and lifts up a mug.

"Thank god for coffee," I giggle, noticing the jittery way he's flipping the pancakes. I tentatively sit myself down at the table, and Greg places a black pancake in front of me. I look up at him, and he shrugs. "Don't hate on me. I can't cook." I laugh and bite into the burnt pancake. His cellphone rings, and he pours another cup of coffee, putting the phone on speaker.

"Sanders." "

Hey, it's Nicky. You in the mood for a murder?"

"It feels like criminals are just trying to be inconsiderate now. Why not kill someone when it's NOT my day off?" I giggle, and the man on the other side of the phone pauses,

"Do you have a girl over, G?"

"Not the kind you think." He winks at me and turns the phone of speaker, entering the hallway. I creep back into the room I was staying in and enter. The letters again, smiling as the box opens with a satisfied clink. I pull out my hairbrush, running the silver bristles through my matted and tangled hair. When it falls in perfect ringlets to my belly button, I put it away. Quietly, I enter the code for the bottom drawer. I pull it out. In one compartment, letters, some opened, others sealed. In the other, photographs. In the third, documents. And in the forth, a shiny silver gun.

Short chapter. I know. Anyway, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! 21 reviews! My third highest yet! I LOVE YOU GUYS! Not in a creepy way. Moving on. So what do you guys think? Review! Or PM me. I love PM's. If you ever want to discuss stories, life in general, Szmanda, Sandles, Morganders, or of course... CSI, PM me! Thanks for reading, guys!


	10. AUTHORS NOTE

Okay, just letting you know, this right here IS NOT A CHAPTER! If you started screaming "NEW CHAPTER! YAY!" I apologize. Feel free to hit the computer screen. I am just here to inform you that I will onto post another chapter when I get 20 reviews. No, I'm not trying to be annoying. It's just that 888 people have viewed this (!), and I've only gotten 16 reviews! And I was thrilled about that, but seriously, people. More reviews, more chapters. So sorry!


	11. Forgotten Letters

_"This is a bad idea." I whisper in his ear, and in response he sends me a grin that makes my heart stop beating. _

_"I know. That's what makes it such a great one." I can smell the whiskey on his breath, and I'm sure mine has the same odor. This doesn't seem to bother him, though, for he pulls me in and kisses me just the same. His lips are so soft and warm that I groan into his mouth, causing him to pull me in closer. My hands on his chest, teasingly pulling at the buttons of his shirt. Mine is tossed on the floor somewhere, long gone, along with the rest of my clothes. I toss his shirt aside and begin to work on his pants. Soon, we both lie naked on the bed, moaning. The next morning, I woke up and found him gone. I never got his name._

* * *

I stare at the journals and scrapbooks in front of me, the bits and pieces of my life with Ash, my life as a mother. I pull the first one on my lap, a pregnancy scrapbook. The first entry is dated May Fifth, the day I found out I was pregnant. A letter to Ash is scrawled out.

**Dear Baby, **

**It's incredible how one little plus changes everything. I just found out I'm pregnant with you. I cannot begin to describe how I'm feeling right now. I'm scared, for one. I'm only eighteen, still in high school. What am I going to do, little baby? Abortion is out of the question. I can already tell that your going to be incredible, and I won't deny you that chance. I can't put you up for adoption, either. I'm already in love with you, sunshine. And I don't really believe in love. But I already know that I'm never going to let you out of my sight, and you'll be the other half of my heart. I guess I should tell you now that its just going to be you and me, angel. I never got your fathers name. But he was the most charming, sweet, funny, handsome man I've ever met. If you're anything like him, you'll go far in life, I can promise you that. I wonder if you'll look like him? I cannot wait to find out, baby girl. Well, you might be a boy. But I can't help but feel like your a little girl. Call it Mother's Intuition. **

**Dang it, Mom! I need to tell her. I guess I should refer to her as "Grandma", since that's what you'll be calling her. She's awesome, sunshine. You'll love her, even though she tends to talk a lot. She's like your father in that way, I suppose. Your father... He sure could talk. About the most interesting things, though. He's a scientist, you know. Like me. After I graduate, I'm going to work as a CSI at LAPD. I'm going to get the bad guys off the street, just for you, baby girl.**

**Mommy**

* * *

Long time no post, huh? *hides head in shame* I know, I'm a terrible person. Ash has been in my head for the past two weeks, and its getting quite annoying, so I posted the crappy chapter I wrote a while back.


	12. Terrorizing Hodges

"This sucks, G. Everyone is away at a scene, except you, because you're here doing the paperwork Sara bullied you into. I'm bored and lonely and there's nothing to do." Ash says, putting the now finished _Moby Dick _next to her On teh break room sofa.

"I wouldn't say that."

"You wouldn't say that because you're a CSI. You're putting the bad guys away. I'm trying to come up with something to do. And failing miserably."

"Have you met Hodges yet, Ash?" She shakes her head. This surprises me. Ash has been here about a week now. Brass pulled some strings. She can stay here until a foster home opens up. But due to Ash's lack of records, I'm thinking it might take a little while. Even Brass thought it was strange. The lack of records, I mean. Almost very foster child has a file, a record. Why they're there, how many times they've moved from place to place, any behavioral issues, etc. Ash didn't. It was like she had Ben dropped from the sky. She refused to talk to anyone about the situations that had landed her in foster care, but we guessed her mother had abandoned her. Her first name was Åshild. Her mom was a CSI, and her dad was Norwegian. That was all we knew about Ash.

"Follow me, A," She got up and followed me to the glass windows of the trace lab. "Okay. That's our target," I pointed at the gray-haired man running samples off a red t-shirt.

"David Hodges. Lab rat. Jerk. My arch nemesis. Middle age. Alone."

"What's the plan, G?" She asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Mind tricks, A. You ready for this? I'm warning you, he screams like a girl," She laughs into her hand and nods. "Okay. One sec." I run to the break-room and grab the white blanket from the cupboard. Racing back, I hand it to her. She flashes me an evil grin, wrapping it around her, reading my mind. Her skin is still pale, her body weak, bones popping out of her skin. Although it helped with her ghostly appearance, I was worried. A week here hadn't done much to fix her years in foster care. She refused to talk about it. But her scars and bruises spoke for themselves. I had been trying to get her to speak about it, with someone, anyone. So far, the only people she would say a word to were Brass, Finn, Sara, and me. She was terrified of everyone else, Nick especially. I didn't know why. The Texan had tried everything to get Ash to smile. But she quivered in his presence. I shake the thoughts out of my head.

"You ready?" She whispers, and I give her a quick thumbs up.

"Hey, Hodges. You got those results for Sara yet?" I ask, walking into the room.

Hodges shoots me a look of disgust. "I'm not your slave, Sanders. Try patience. Or even better," he pauses, peering into the microscope, "Medication."

As if on cue, Ash walks in. Her eyes look blank, dead. She wanders absentmindedly through the lab. Hodges, still looking into his microscope, doesn't notice. It's only when she gently taps the wind chime, evidence on a new case, that he startles. He looks around for a moment, but Ash is crouching behind the table, out of sight.

"What? It wasn't me!" I say when he gives me a glare.

"They honestly don't pay me enough to work around children like you." He walks over to the computer, turning his back to us.

A terrible mistake.

Ash gets up quietly, flashing me a final evil grin before tapping the lab rat on the back. He jumps a foot in the air. Turning around, he notices Ash. His eyes grow wide and his chin begins to tremble.

"Hello, David. Did I startle you?" She looks and sounds like she belongs in a movie about a perfect blonde doll. That comes to life and kills everyone. Hodges tries to take a step backwards. Instead, he crashes into the computer cart.

"Oh, David. Don't go breaking things. Didn't your mommy teach you that?" She cocks her head to the side, a positively frightening smile creeping up her lips.

"G-g-ghost!" He screams.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone run that fast.

We both double over in hysterics, laughing in the floor of the trace room.

I was laughing so hard I didn't notice she had stopped breathing.

* * *

**Well. That escalated quickly.**

**I know I haven't been updating. SO SO SO SO SO sorry. Feel free to punch me. Actually, I take that back. Please don't punch me. It would hurt. BUT. This chapter is completely the work of Morgan, who made me feel and with her amazing writing and updating skills. I hate her. So much.**

**I've run out of funny ways to say "Please review." So...please review**


	13. Reading Notes

"I don't know, Morgan. This isn't any other case. You know as well as I do that this is personal." Jas took a step away from the wall, staring at the dozens of pictures on the wall. She tilted her head, as if looking at the bulletin board at a different angle would solve everything. Surprisingly, it doesn't. She walks over to the other wall, also are entirely out of bulletin board. That one is covered with pictures of a body underneath a freeway overpass, the LAPD's latest case. I had taken a week off work to get my head together about Ash and had somehow ended up here.

"Wow, really?" I said, sarcasm evident in my tone. I slammed another folder closed and threw it down onto the desk. "Fuck this! Fuck all of this! This man has nothing. Nothing at all. He's a serial killer! He's murdered 24 people. Kidnapped even more. How can he have fucking nothing?" I stare at the photos on the wall. I instantly regret it. The woman in the photographs are so...beautiful. Life snatched away form them in the blink of an eye. On their chest, a single photo. Of little girls. Their little girls. Some teenagers. Some toddlers. And on one, a tiny infant. My heart cracks and my stomach churns with fury. But it's one note, sealed in a plastic bag and tacked up to the board, that scares and enrages me more than anything. I walk up to the board and snatch it off. Dried blood is splattered over the words. But I have them memorized.

**Morgan,**

**Hello, sweetheart. Remember me? Father of your child? Because I sure remember you. **

**You know, it really is rude to keep a father from his child. A girl needs a positive male role model, you know. Do you want Åshild to hate me like you hate your father? By the way, Åshild is a truly dreadful name. Honestly, Morgan. Don't worry. When I take her, we'll change it. Oh! Sorry. Did I forget to mention that I plan to take our daughter? Well, I do. I honestly don't really see you as a fit parent. I would take it to the courts, but I think you understand why I can't be fingerprinted, right, dear? And killing you in court wouldn't be as much fun, right sweetheart? Risk of getting caught and all. I'd prefer to sneak in late one night, have some fun with you, and stab you to bits before I take April. Oh, sorry, Åshild. That's just what I'll call her when you're six feet under.**

**Sweet dreams, sweetcheeks. **

**Adam**

I feel physically sick. Oh, god. The night comes rushing back to me in technicolor. She was so silent. So, so silent. It was the noise of the blade breaking her beautiful skin that made me dash into her room. The note on top of her seemingly lifeless body. The bright blood. She fought, that's what the nurse said. She grabbed his hand and tried. To stop the knife from entering her heart. As a result, it stabbed her mouth, scarring her lip and chipping her tooth. But he didn't stop. It was like he...enjoyed it. He dragged the tip of the knife all around her body, causing long scar lines on her small little arms and stomach and legs. But it was the final stab that caused the most damage. It hit her right in the heart.

"Son of a bitch." I murmured under my breath. Jas heard me and looked up at me with a sad little smile.

"We'll get him, Morgan. I want him behind bars as badly as you do."

"Then why isn't he? Answer me that, Jasmine." The anger in my tone makes her recoil. I know this isn't fair. God, Jasmine helped raise Ash. I know she loved Ash like she would her own daughter. Through everything, she had been my rock. But Ash was my world. She was my world. And the fact that the man who had made her lose a portion of her heart and caused the scars up and down her body was not in jail yet angered me more than anything else in the world. It wasn't fair.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, Morgan."

"No, it really isn't. This could never be okay. That man made my daughter grow up in foster homes across the country. He caused her pain and fear and...h-h-he stole her from me!" I trace the outline of the picture of Ash that decorates the middle of the board, willing tears away.

"Morgan, we're getting closer to this guy everyday. And I know how frustrating this is. But we..."

The ringing of my phone cuts her off. It's a cricket, which Sara assigned as her ringtone because it reminds her of her husband, Grissom.

"What, Sara? It's not really the time." My tone is sharp, my words clipped.

"Morgan, get your ass down to Desert Palms right now."

"What, do I have to work a case? Look, I'm trying to…"

"Ash isn't breathing.


End file.
